The Heart of a Dragon
by EventerBallerina
Summary: Four Cards for Four Lives. Kisara and Priest Set's story starts before Ancient Egypt. Slight AU


Author's Note: Hello everyone. This is just a little story that has been nagging at me ever since I started playing Yugioh Duel Links. There's a lack of Kisara/Kaiba stories, and I was tired of the weak, humble Kisara. She's a fucking dragon, dammit. A couple of notes, the Atlantis arch in my story never happened because it was a shit arch, and I deny its existence. The setting is in ancient Mesopotamia, about a thousand years before Ancient Egypt story. I'm no expert on Babylon, but I did the best research I could on Wikipedia. Also, in my story, all fantasy creatures are real…. So you may see your favorite mythical creature, cause there are a lot of them I have in mind coming into this story. Please, review if you want to see more. I have my novel that I'm editing, and this is just for fun. The more you review, the more I'll be motivated to write. Just fyi. One more note, Kisara has a different name in my story. It doesn't make sense in my mind that she would have the same name in all of her live times…. I used Seto's Atlantis name, Critias, because it sounds cool and ancient. I'm really bad at naming characters, so I went with it. So, please R&R

* * *

The sun felt soothing against her scales as she was curled up on rock like a cat. The harsh chill of winter in the northern mountains was becoming only a soft whisper on the wind, and the smell of greening foliage grew stronger each morning. It was about time, she thought, the winters seemed to become harsher and longer with each passing decade. An annoyance to her, and it made her more annoyed at the thought of leaving her cave for warmer climes. She liked her cave, filled to the brim with all her favorite shiny things she'd collected over the millennia.

With a great big yawn, her massive jaws opening and snapping shut, she stretched out her neck and then laid back down on the rock. A nap sounded good, and her belly was filled to the brim with figs and beef, all offered to her by the Mesopotamia Kingdom's high priests. Such flatters those men were, and she appreciated the gift being delivered so far north to her territory. She'd have to grace them with her divine presence soon, but for right now, a nap demanded her attention.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, a beating of wings awoke her.

She snarled. _That old man._

Her sharp eyes narrowed on the figure, which grew by the second. A bold roar echoed around the valley, signaling his approach, such a show off. The mass in the sky blossomed into a large menacing, dark bronze dragon. He circled around her a few times, but she continued to ignore him, placing her head back on the ground.

 _Silma._ The old man's smoky voice filled her head when he landed beside her.

She peeked at him with one icy blue eye. _What do you want, ancient one?_

His body barely fit on the cliff ledge, but he still managed to look graceful with his balk. Compared to her slim, silver form, he was the exact opposite of her, and yet….

 _Is that anyway to speak to your father?_

 _I'm three thousand years old; old enough to call you whatever I want._

 _Ugh._ He snorted. _The terrible threes. Your brother had the same attitude when he was around your age._

 _Perfect little Turindo? I can't imagine._ Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she thought of her oldest brother. The two eldest siblings took after their mother's coloring, while they both took their father's form. He was the first born and was a momma's boy; he was also the biggest suck up. Always talking up the other elder dragons and elves, thinking he was the smartest out of the three siblings. Ha!

 _Silma, I will not allow you to continue to speak to me in such a manner._ Her father warned.

She sighed and stood; now looking at the large black dragon fully. Turindo was almost their father's height, while she remained petite compared. But, that didn't mean she lacked in power. Oh, no, at three thousand years old, she was more powerful and deadly than any of the other dragons her age. Not only that, her inner fire was unique. Her brother didn't have that.

 _Why are you here, father?_ She asked, her voice humbling. Her brother may have been a mamma's boy, but she would always be daddy's little girl.

Her father's maw relaxed, and he leaned back on his haunches to observe his eldest daughter. _Your mother was worried about you. She's been having some visions. You've been getting closer to the Babylonians._

 _Oh that._ She had been wondering when her mother would figure out what she had been doing in her spare time. Although her mother lacked physical powers, her psychic abilities had no match. Silma inherited a little of that ability, but not to the same extent. Dragons were not psychic beings, nor did they naturally have water abilities. Due to her parent's _unusual_ union, she possessed characteristics of both creatures. Silma and Turindo had their father's form and domain over fire, but they had their mother's coloring and a bit of her mastery over water. They were also both omnivores, a fusion of their parents' diets. The youngest sibling had the most unusual combination, having their mother's form but their father's full abilities. Laurëa would have a difficult life, whereas the other siblings could live in the open because of their forms, she would be guarded for the rest of her life.

 _Yes. That. What do you think you're doing? Who knows?_

Silma rolled her eyes. _The Babylonians see me as a goddess. The only one who links my human form with my dragconish one is the high priest. He's fine. He trained with some of the high elves from the East._

Steam blew from his nostrils. _As if the words from elves eases my mind._

 _Now, now, daddy._ She soothed. _Just because you and the elves hate each other, doesn't mean I don't. Besides, mum trusts them._

 _That's not the point._ He snarled. _You're mother doesn't have a single hateful bone in her body, but the elves and –_

 _Yes, yes, and that was a very long time ago. They are peaceful now; please join us in this century._

 _Fine._ He lamented. _But you're mother also said that you got involved with a pair of male humans…._

She cocked her head. What did mom mean? The scales above her eyes furrowed; when have she been involved with pair of male humans? The only humans that she'd been close with were the priestesses and the High Priest. She searched her memories, and only landed on a pair of children she rescued from some slavers near the Red Sea. But, she only spent a day with them, as a dragon. Was that what her mother was worried about?

 _That was years ago, almost ten years._ She informed her father. _Why would she have a vision about that now?_

 _That's what worries your mother_. The ancient one answered. _She believes that your life is now tied with one of those two. It won't end well._

 _Me? Get involved with a human? After what grandmother went through, I know better._

 _Let's hope so, little lady._ He bumped his nuzzle with hers. _I need to be off again. There's trouble in the Jade Mines, and your mother wanted me to rely this message to you on my way. Please, pay her a visit soon. She misses having a full nest._

 _I shall._ She bid her father farewell, and with a one beat of his wings, he was up in the sky, flying away. She watched him till he was a small dot on the horizon.

It had been a long time since she's visited her family, last summer. It was about that time of year again, but, for now, she wanted to back down south, in order to participate in the human's spring festivals. Besides, that head priest would be beside himself if she showed her face.

* * *

The sun shone high as she wondered through the throngs of the market. The smells of ripe fruit and cooking meat made her mouth water. This morning at the inn she stayed at last night had gruel so vile that she nearly lost the contents of her stomach. Now, her stomach growled, despite gorging herself yesterday.

The ripe fruit stalls tempted her, and the stall full of apricots made her mouth water.

"May I have two apricots, please?" She asked the attending young farmer, who blushed when she address him.

"O-of course, milady! They were just plucked this morning," he stumbled over his words as he presented two unblemished apricots to her.

"They look delicious," she said, flashing him a smile. Humans always bumbled around her, as her human form was considered exotic in this part of the world. But, no matter the region, she was considered very beautiful. It also didn't help that she inherited her father's hypnotic dragon eyes. The icy blue orbs could beguile any creature, if she so wished.

The farmer struggled to find words, but she reached for his hand. He stiffened under her soft grip, but sagged when she pressed two sheckles into his palm.

"Thank you." She plucked the fruit from him and continued her way down the market, leaving the man dazed.

If she had her hair uncovered, he would have surely fainted. Silma chuckled at the thought. Her shiny white hair made her stick out even more, so she'd adapted a veil to cover her long hair which was secured with a plain silver circlet.

In other cities, her strange appearance would have caused a riot, but the high priest combated this by proclaiming light skinned and haired women were omens of good fortune. Now, another kind of riot would start, but it was better than people throwing stones and cursing at her. That was dangerous situation. She didn't have a good temper.

The dragon in human flesh walked amongst the mortals while taking delicate bites of the sweet apricot. Silma loved the energy humans brought. Cities filled with immortals and shifters were dull, just a bunch of old fogies bustling around and haggling. Not only that, she liked to speak with the humans. It was astounding how much their race progressed: coming up with their own languages and writing system, developing vast cities with booming economic centers, and even some of them becoming well versed magic users. Humans were rapidly changing and evolving, unlike the immortals. They've been the same since the beginning of time.

The one thing she didn't like about the humans was how they treated their females. Too many times she'd been harassed by overzealous males, and too many times she's lost her temper. Bit of a nasty surprise for them when they found themselves staring up a massive dragon rather than a slim pale woman they'd targeted. In addition, their wives and daughters were not considered more than chattel. Too many were sold as slaves, to be entertainment of the flesh. That also caused Silma to lose her temper.

This was why she headed to a particular destination within the city. Prostitution in Babylon was actually considered a noble job, holy even. Which was why she tolerated the higher ranking men of the city, but only a little bit.

The building she approached was rather large and ornate. The sweet perfume of flowering plants tickled her nose. The garden was beautiful, tediously tended to by the occupants. She knocked on the backdoor. Her ears picked up a shout then the shuffling of feet.

"Who is it?" An older female voice asked from behind the door.

"Herb deliverer!" Silma answered, feeling for the large pouches she's tied to her belt, tis the season of giving the fruits of her labor over the winter.

The wooden door opened wide for Silma, revealing a woman in her late forties. The woman gave her a large smile and bowed. "Milady! We were wondering when you would return to us!"

"The winter snows from the North finally melted," she informed, removing her circlet and veil and shaking out her hair. "I've been able to get some of the herbs to grow, but I also have plenty of seedlings for the girls to plant."

"Thank you, Lady Silma. We always appreciate your patronage to the goddess Ishtar and her priestesses."

"Of course," Silma said, placing the silver circlet back on her head in order to push back her long hair out of her face. "I'm also honored that my seedlings will aid the other priestess within the city." The herbs were a powerful contraceptive, but they were difficult to sprout without a little magical assistance. The priestesses here offered up their bodies in order to better serve their goddess, but that didn't mean they wanted to pop out a kid every year. Children might be blessing for the immortals, but humans bred readily which is why their numbers spread so quickly.

"Lady Silma! You're here!" A high pitched voice sounded from behind the two women.

"Hello, Ni," she greeted the young girl. Ni beamed and locked Silma in a tight embrace. She returned the gesture, patting the girl on the back who held her middle tight. "You've grown since I saw you last spring."

"I grew at least 8 centimeters!" Ni boasted. "Mab thinks my moons will start soon."

Silma frowned. Ni was indeed getting to that age, but that meant her training would end soon. Then she would join ranks with the other priestesses. It wasn't a horrible life, but still harsh. Silma also felt overprotective over her. The thought of a man laying one hand on her innocent body made Silma want to render the male limb from limb. But, alas, she couldn't interfere.

"Don't get too excited, youngling," she chastised. "Becoming a woman isn't fun, nor are your moons. I swear to the stars above that I'd rather rip my womb out than suffer through that every y – month." Oops, nearly slipped on that one.

Ni cocked her head. "Mab says that the pain women go through is the ultimate atonement for our mortal sins and that the goddess will bless us with children to elevate our pain."

 _And Mab is an old hag that needs to stop spewing vile nonsense in impressionable ears._

"Listen to me, Ni," Silma stressed, placing two hands on the girls shoulder and bent down to be eyelevel with her. "Children _are_ a blessing, but you and every woman on this earth don't have any sins to atone for which forces us to go through such pain. It is merely a faulty design in the universe. All females, across all creatures, have some kind of hardship relating to reproduction. You have nothing to be ashamed for, nor are you unclean as others might say. Do you understand?"

"I think so, but Mab says differently and so do the other ladies…." Ni trailed off.

Silma groaned. Old hags the lot of them. "Well, just remember this, when you do have your moon, send for me and I'll bring you something to elevate the pain."

The young girl's eyes widened before bowing low. "Thank you, Lady Silma, you have my eternal gratitude."

* * *

Silma sagged in her seat across from the woman who let her in.

"I really wish that girl wouldn't grow up. She's too pure and innocent for this world."

The woman chuckled and poured the white hair women tea from across the wooden table. "They all grow up, Lady Silma, and they do eventually have to do their duty, priestess or not."

"I know that, Neave, but it doesn't mean I have to like it," she growled, taking a sip of the warm liquid.

"You should have been born as a man then; make the changes." Neave laughed, pouring herself tea.

Silma's blue eyes snapped to Neave, and she had to restrain herself from snapping at the woman. It was difficult to always remember she wasn't in her place. This wasn't her world, and she had no right to mess with it. Help it, sure, but not mess.

"Well, my people are different," she shrugged. "There are no status differences between men and women."

Neave hummed to herself. "Sounds as though you come from a very peaceful place, lady."

Silma shook her head. "Not really, there's always someone vying for power, man or woman. The stakes are higher when powerful magic is involved."

Neave stared at Silma for a moment before laughing. "No matter how old I get, you'll always be wiser than me."

"Well," Silma amended, "I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm a great deal older than you."

The woman raised a brow, "How much older?"

"You don't wanna know," Silma replied, taking a long drag from her tea. Neave wasn't a nosey woman, not in the ten years Silma had known her. She also wasn't a priestess, but a maid within the house, tending to the girls. It paid well enough, and supplemented her husband's income handsomely with his clerk occupation.

"Oh, well, no problem. With all the help you've been over the past decade, I can't complain. Although, I envy you keep your good looks with your age. I'm starting to grey and wrinkle, "she said, pointing to the top of her head.

"Well, I've already fully grey'd!" Silma laughed, also pointing out her silver locks. Neave joined her laughter. But, their amusement was cut short with a loud shout that sounded from the front of the house. With Silma's sensitive ears, she picked up two masculine voices yelling at Mab. Oh, those poor fools. Mab shouted right back at them, cursing them for stepping foot in a holy house with such ill intensions.

"We've caught word of a white haired woman entering this place. High Priest Imo summons her to the high temple, immediately."

Mab wasn't having any of that talk within her house, and Silma felt her temper flare that the high priest had the utter nerve to summon her. Who in the fuck did he think he was? It was a bit amusing though. Imo thinking he had that kind of power over her. Well, she would oblige, if only to bite off his head for doing so, both figuratively and literally.

The commotion within the house rose, and the door to the kitchen burst open, revealing two large city guards.

"How dare you force your way into our sacred domain!" Mab shrieked from behind the two men.

The bald one's gaze focused on Silma, and she shot him a wicked, razor sharp smile, daring him to come snatch her away. He blanched but shook his head to get his wits back.

"Lady," the other guard addressed her, "the high priest summons you."

"Oh, my," she drawled, crossing her legs. "If he had any manners, he would have requested my presence." Then, her voice went down into a fierce growl. "No one. Summons. Me."

The guards froze as the full force of her gaze beguiled them, filling them with fear and dread. What exactly did they get themselves into?

She broke her gaze, releasing the two from her grip, and she lifted her chin. "If you must take me away, I guess I'll follow you."

The guards shifted with unease as they watched her don her long veil and finish her tea.

"Was lovely to chat with you this afternoon, Neave. Hopefully I'll see you at dinner."

Neave gave Silma a knowing smile and nodded, "of course, I'll be sure to set a place for you at my table, send word if you won't be able to make it at dusk?"

"Will do."

She then turned her attention to the guards, who were twice the size of her human form. Silma placed her hands on her hips. "Come on, lads, lead me to your master."

They still looked nervous but they turned heel to lead her through the front of the house.

Mab was spitting mad, shooting baleful glares at the two men then giving a small sneer to Silma.

"I'm sorry about the trouble, Mab."

"No matter," the older woman grumbled, "just tell that old bastard he has hell to pay."

"Don't worry," she reassured, "he'll get an earful from me."

With a curt nod, Mab swept past to ascend the stairs back to her chambers; her long dark robes and hair swishing as she went by.

Mab wasn't terrible, but the two women butted heads on more than one occasion. The witch and priestess was a force of nature to deal with, and Silma appreciated her power and sass, only when it didn't test the dragon's temper.

With the guards leading Silma through the city, it was easy to pass by, with everyone ducking away from the high temple guards. With every step she took, her temper heightened, still mulling over the fact that a human dared to summon her. No one in her life, besides her parents, ever gave her orders, and she did not like it. Not one bit.

The high temple was set on a high platform with hundreds of marble stairs leading the way to the entrance. The stairs didn't hinder her, but the guards' foreheads shined with a thin sheen of perspiration. Humans. It still astounded her how weak they could be, even the strongest amongst them. Of course, it wasn't a fair comparison since she was one of the strongest beings.

When they crossed the threshold of the temple, there was a distinct difference in the air, slightly cooler and brimming with incense and magic. The priests who were given the honor of serving within the halls of the high temple had the highest magical ability, tested extensively in their youth. Of course, they were missing out of the best magical talent, the priestesses within the city. Mab's power easily surpassed Priest Imo's, even with his fancy training with the elves. That is why Silma kept company at that particular holy house, keeping a watchful eye on Mab. Although Mab was aging, she didn't show signs of it. Her magic was suppressing her aging process. It would pose a problem in the future.

She was snapped out of her musings when the guards stopped, kneeling before the pedestal which sat Priest Imo.

Silma did not show such curtesy, and only glared at the old geezer. "What did you think you were doing when you decided that you had the balls to _summon_ me?"

Imo had the decency to pale before sputtering. "Summon?"

"Yes, _summon_ ," she spat.

He was visibly shaken, and then gazed at the guards at his feet. "What did you do?" He hissed down at them. "I asked for you to find her and request her to come to the temple. Not drag her here! Do you know you've done?"

Silma cocked her head when the guards started whimpering. "Ah,"she murmured, understanding what transpired. "Command lost in translation then?"

"Yes," Imo rubbed his temples, "I would never, in a millennium, summon you. That would be asking for my death sentence."

"Good," she hummed. "I'd thought you'd lost your mind when these two barged into the House of Ishtar. Mab was very pissed."

"Oh, dear stars above," he buried his head in his hands. Imo knew fully of the witch, and the power that she possessed. He was downright afraid of her, which he should. "I'll be sure to send her a horse in order to appease her."

"Make sure it's one of your best mares," Silma advised, "sending her just any horse will piss her off further."

"Done. But how should I appease you?"

"Oh," she smirked, "a couple more of your cattle should do. The one you sent me the other day was delicious."

"Again, done."

"Glad to have that settled; I'd hate to see our friendship compromised by a miscommunication. However…," she trailed off to step around the guards in order to look at their faces. "How should these two be punished?"

Imo hummed to himself for a moment. "I think some time out in the fields should do it."

The guards stiffened and lowered their heads to the floor. "We apologize for our mistake Lord Imo, Lady. We promise to do better."

"Be sure that you do," Silma murmured, "because another mistake like that may mean your life. You are dismissed."

They scrambled away as fast as their feet could, and she watched them with a level eye before looking back at Imo.

"So, why did you _request_ my presences?" She inquired, taking off her veil. "It must be important."

"Yes," he said, standing from his seat. "Would you take a walk with me? There is someone I'd like to introduce to you."

This should be interesting.

"There's a boy who was in a neighboring village we picked up a few years back. The power he contains is quite astonishing," Priest Imo explained as the two walked the halls of the temple; scribes and other priests scurried past them.

"Oh?" She arched a brow and nodded for him to continue.

"He's a man now, and has passed all of my tests with flying colors. But, there is one last test I want him to take, and I was hoping you could accompany him on his task. There's a hydra about three days ride to the west."

"Ah," she peered at the old priest. "You want me to make sure he doesn't die."

"Exactly," he confirmed, leading them deeper into the temple. The light started to become dim, and torches lined the walls to light the way. Silma knew where they were heading, down to Imo's private library. This boy must be something if he had access to Imo's sacred tablets.

"This could be easier," she mused.

The priest raised a brow to her.

"I could lead the boy away from the city, transform into a dragon, and roar." Her hands curled into claws, mimicking slashing talons. "Then, if the kid doesn't wet his pants, he passes." She giggled, throwing an amused smile to Imo who only frowned at her suggestion.

"I don't think that's best…," he trailed off, at a loss for words.

She shrugged. "If you change your mind, just say the word!"

They stopped at a heavy looking wooden door, and Imo knocked, signaling his presences, before opening the door. The lighting within the personal library was poor, with only a few candles lit on a long wooden table. Her eyes had no problem seeing the tall figure, hunched over a few papyruses. Silma frowned. Humans didn't have the means to make paper, only the immortals. She did know that Imo possessed them, from his time with the elves. But, why on earth was this boy-man reading them? They'd had to be in elvish.

Her accusatory eyes fell on Imo, and he only gave her a self-satisfied grin.

"What is this?" She hissed, voice slow and menacing.

"Critias," Imo called. "Please come here and greet our guest."

Dark blue eyes snapped up to his master then the pale, white haired stranger.

Silma's jaw snapped, but she paused as she took in the young man sitting at the table. Tall, lean, and with a face just leaving boyhood, the boy-man was handsome with his tan skin and long brown hair. His eyes though. They didn't look fully human to her and was unnervingly familiar. Where had she seen those eyes before?

Her mind raced through thousands of years of memories, before settling on one. He was one of the boys she saved from slavers ten years ago. Huh, so this is where he turned up. That was good; he was no longer the bag of bones she plucked up. She remembered being amused at the fearlessness he displayed when she melted the flesh and bone of the slavers.

Critias stood from his chair, bowing low. "Welcome, master." His blue eyes locked on hers. "And lady."

Something unpleasant stirred within her chest as he gazed at her. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, alien to her. She had the urge to burst into a violent rage, but she also wanted get closer to the male, encircle him. Take him away with her back to her cave in the north and keep him. The emotions thrumming through her body were vicious. But, she regained her composure, beating down the rage that filled her veins. She was a civilized being, but one direct look at those eyes made her become a mindless beast.

"Lady Silma, are you alright?" Imo questioned, snapping her back to reality.

"Yes, yes," she waved her hand. "Now, please explain to me what in the fucking hell is going on?"

Like why in the world what this human reading elvish, and why was he having such an effect on her? This needed to end, now.

Imo sighed, and his protégé remained silent. "Please, sit down, and we shall discuss."

She raised her chin in defiance, but reluctantly took a seat across from Critias. Imo looked happy that she was being compliant and took his place at the head of the table.

Silma made a point of keeping her eyes on Imo, rather than staring at the unnerving man.

"Lady Silma." Critias greeted. Oh, stars. Why did he have to talk? It was no longer high and childish, but low, smoky, and masculine. It made gooseflesh bloom across her skin. Damn him.

"Critias, is it?" She inquired, now reluctantly gazing at him. Now, that she was closer to him, she could see that he was well taller than her human form, a fact that angered and excited her. He was dressed in simple blue robes, and his hair was tied in a queue at the nape of his neck while shorter bits of hair framed his eyes, making his demeanor look darker.

"It is." He answered with no emotion.

"Well, then, Critias," her voice dropped to a growl. "Tell me who taught you how to read elvish?"

She already knew the answer but wanted the old man to say it.

"I did," Imo stated, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Why?" she hissed. "I may not follow elvish law, but you do. This is a complete violation, and I will not be involved with it."

"I know, but I had a good reason for it. I'm sure your time with Critias will illuminate it, but my bad reason is that I simply ran out of things to teach him. His magical abilities exceed mine and easily rivals – " Imo cut himself off, not wanting to say the name out loud. But, Silma knew he was speaking of, Mab.

"That is a bad reason." Her gaze went back to Critias. He didn't seem put-off by Imo's compliment; rather he looked pleased with a small smirk spreading across his lips.

"Anyways," Imo continued, "I've already discussed it with Critias. If it's alright with you, you two can head out in the morning."

A week or more with this male spelled trouble, but she would be damn before she back away from a challenge. Silma would babysit the lad and discover what in the hell Imo was talking about. There was also the voice she beat down earlier that was screaming in triumph, alone with him. It disgusted her that her body had such a response.

"Agreed, have the horses prepared by the time I get here at dawn," she commanded, rising to leave.

"Won't you join us for dinner, Lady Silma?" Imo asked.

"I have a prior engagement," she informed, about to leave the private library.

"Lady Silma," that dark masculine voice called her name. Her body instinctively turned to him, and she cursed it for reacting to just the sound of his voice.

"Yes?" Her eyes transfixed on his, not believing that this was the boy she saved all those years ago.

"I'll be in the stables waiting for you come morning. But, best be warned, it won't be an easy journey."

Silma blinked and then busted out laughing until tears formed in her eyes. "That's a very funny joke," she chuckled gripping at her sides. "I'll be perfectly fine young one. I'm the one who will be protecting you. If you have your doubts about my strength then – "She snapped her fingers. The flames of the candles burst into large towering flames of white light, blinding Imo and Critias. With another snap, she snuffed them, casting the room into darkness. White flames danced between her fingers when she waved goodbye. "Get a good night's rest. You'll need it."

She left with her mind thinking back to her mother's warning. Maybe he would be her undoing.


End file.
